


Love and Happiness

by jackabelle73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-09-02 23:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16796845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabelle73/pseuds/jackabelle73
Summary: Belle French receives notice from the government that her marriage has been arranged for her, as it is for all residents of Storybrooke. She reports to Town Hall on the designated day to find out who she is fated to marry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have over 20K written of this story, including the ending. It just needs some gaps filled in and polishing, so I’m planning to update regularly.
> 
> Please note, there are discussions and references in this fic about non-consensual relationships and situations. I promise that nothing non-consensual happens ‘on-screen’ but the entire system of arranged marriages is overflowing with consent issues, and the characters discuss that.

_Your presence is requested at Town Hall on Saturday morning 10:00 am. Ceremony will take place at 11:00 am. Failure to attend will be considered treason and will be punished accordingly._

Belle let the paper fall to the floor and sank down to sit on the edge of her bed. So. It was happening. Her name had been put into a computer along with the answers to the questionnaire she’d filled out on her 18th birthday, and a complicated algorithm had chosen her life mate for her. Today was Thursday. The notices were always sent out two days in advance. Citizens were given enough time to obtain their government-mandated clothes for the ceremony, to pack a bag with a few personal possessions, and say goodbye to their families. Then they presented themselves at Town Hall to learn who the government had chosen for their life partner.

The pamphlet she’d been given when she completed the questionnaire had assured her that nerves were normal. _Nerves._ As if she would experience a few butterflies in her stomach. The glossy trifold brochure with its pictures of smiling, happily-matched couples hadn’t hinted at the terror that was building up in her, making its way to her throat so it could escape as an ear-splitting scream.

“Belle? Where are you?” Her father called from the hallway.

Her first attempt at answering came out as a squeak. “In here, Papa,” she finally managed, still sounding strangled.

“I just got home from work. Why aren’t you downstairs, preparing dinner?” He entered and saw the letter on the floor, with its familiar government seal. “You got your notice.” He picked it up, scanning the few terse lines, and dropped heavily on the bed next to her. “So it’s the day after tomorrow then.”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at her knees.

“Your mother and I were lucky with our marriage assignment, Belle. We grew to love each other. Maybe you’ll be lucky too.”

Her mother had died less than a year ago, and her father was still in his government-allowed period of mourning. Soon though, the year of mourning would be up, and he would get a letter like the one she’d received today. No one was allowed to be unattached for long. Some people received their notices within days of filling out the required questionnaires on their 18th birthday. Belle knew she’d been one of the lucky ones, being able to delay her marriage assignment till after university. She’d been approved only because she was at the top of her class. Her stellar academic performance had bought her four years, but now her time had run out and she was to be married… whether she wanted it or not.

“I _might_ get lucky,” Belle whispered. “Or I could get Gaston, or someone like him. He requested me, you know.”

“No one’s allowed to request their life partner. You know that.”

“Not officially. Not unless your family has influence. And you know his does,” she said bitterly. “By this time two days from now, I could be married to Gaston! Bound by law to…” She trailed off, unable to mention the unknown horrors that could await her on her wedding night, if she were assigned to Gaston. He was twice her size and had a cruel streak in him. He kept it well hidden from anyone in authority, but she had seen that dark side of him more often then she cared to remember, as they went through their school years together. His family’s money had always kept his record clean, and was undoubtedly also the reason he’d gotten a delay of his own marriage assignment. It certainly wasn’t because of his academic performance.

“Well, at least you know Gaston, right? You wouldn’t be marrying a stranger, if you got assigned to him.” Her father gave a feeble attempt at cheering her up.

“Right.” Her choices were Gaston, who she knew to be controlling and cruel, or a stranger who could be better… or worse. There was no way to know.

Belle had applied for second delay of her assignment. She wanted to go to graduate school and get an advanced degree. Her teachers had provided letters of recommendation, detailing her skill with languages and talent for research, and how useful she would be if assigned to the Archives to help preserve its vast library of knowledge. She’d hoped that would be enough to grant her another delay. Sometimes, if the government thought they could benefit more from an individual attaining a higher education than from being assigned a spouse, a second delay was granted. Belle’s application had been denied, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Gaston and his family influence were the reason why. He’d as good as told her, the last time they’d seen each other, that he planned to claim her. She shuddered now, just thinking about his satisfied smirk, so sure of himself. So sure that he would get exactly what he wanted.

“Everyone goes through this, sweetheart. Everyone is nervous about who they might be assigned to, but it all works out.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, the marriages last. The system would crumble if it didn’t work,” he reasoned.

“The marriages last because divorce was made illegal at the same time this insane system was put into place! The system works because the penalty for refusing a match, for refusing to consummate, for running away… is involuntary commitment to a reprogramming facility. Fail the program there, or fail your second match, the penalty is death. The system works only because people don’t want to die!”

“Belle, darling… you’re getting hysterical. Why don’t you lie down and relax a bit, give all this time to sink in, maybe take a nap. You’ll feel better after you rest, and I’ll take care of dinner tonight. I’ll call you when it’s ready, hmm?”

He beat a hasty retreat. He’d never been the kind of man who could deal gracefully with displays of strong emotion from his daughter, and Belle could only breathe a sigh of relief that she was alone again.

He was right though, that she needed to calm down. Getting hysterical wouldn’t help at all. This system had been put in place before she was born; it wasn’t going to disappear overnight because she willed it so. She wandered around her room, touching her few personal possessions and wondering what she would take with her when she left for the ceremony. Her mother’s copy of _Her Handsome Hero_ that she’d given to Belle before her death would be the first thing she packed. Perhaps a few pictures of herself and her friends from school… Ruby, Ariel, Anna, Merida, Mulan. The picture of herself with her parents, one of the last taken before her mother became sick.

She picked up the letter up from the floor, thumbing apart the papers to look at the second page that she’d ignored in her panic. She had an appointment at 10:00 am tomorrow morning to pick up her marriage supplies… the clothes that designated her a newly married person, which she would wear for the government-sanctioned period of three months... unless she became pregnant before that, in which case she would start wearing the expectant mother uniform as soon as her pregnancy was confirmed. A new wave of panic swept over her at the idea of pregnancy, and childbirth, but she fought it down. She couldn’t imagine raising children in this screwed-up world, but right now she needed to focus on the more pressing matter. One crisis at a time.

Feeling spent, she stretched out on her bed and ignored her father’s summons to dinner, feigning sleep when he peeked in her room. She eventually fell asleep for real and didn’t wake till the sun peeked over the horizon the next morning, and made herself get up and prepare for the day. Her mother had always told her to do the brave thing, and bravery would follow. She’d also said there was different kinds of courage. Belle didn’t know what kind of courage would be needed to see her through the next few days, but she would find out soon enough.

Friday was a flurry of appointments and packing, of calling her friends to let them know that she’d gotten her notice and would be out of touch for a while. For the first month after her marriage, she was only allowed to contact her closest living relative, and only once a week. Just a ‘hi, Papa, I’m still alive. The stranger I married hasn’t murdered me yet’ sort of call.

When she called Ruby, she found out that her friend had also received her notice, and was as panicked as Belle herself, though for a slightly different reason. Whereas Belle feared being matched with the wrong man, Ruby feared being matched with any man. She’d known for years that she was attracted to women, and had specified that on her questionnaire. Same-sex matches were possible… _if_ the computer deemed a person of the same gender to be the best match. Ruby wouldn’t know the computer’s verdict till her name was announced at the matching.

Saturday morning was cloudy, with a light drizzle falling. Appropriate.

Belle put on the white dress that designated her a first-time bride and pulled back her hair. She applied makeup mechanically.

Her father waited downstairs to escort her to Town Hall. A car was sent to transport them and they sat stiff in the back seat all the way there. The car joined the line of black government cars, dropping off terrified marrieds-to-be and then pulling away. Those same cars would be waiting after the ceremony, to transport the newlyweds to their state-provided housing and the family members back to their homes.

Belle got out of the car on shaky legs and clung to her father’s arm as they joined the crowd milling on the Town Hall lawn. No one talked much; only a low hum of whispers came from those assembled.

At precisely 10:00 am, the doors opened and Queen Regina stepped out, flanked by staff. The crowd’s whispers stopped immediately.

“Good morning, everyone.” Her voice carried over the assembly without aid of a microphone. “Welcome to Town Hall on this happy, happy day.” Her brittle smile said that she was well aware no one was enjoying themselves. “If each individual would come forward, with their family, when called.”

The staff member next to her started calling out names, reading from a list.

“Good morning, Belle,” an unwelcome voice said next to her ear. She didn’t need to turn and look to know that he had that arrogant smirk on his face again. “Are you ready for the big day? And the bigger night?”

She’d had a lot of time to think about what it might be like if her name was called with Gaston’s on her matching day. Given his frequent comments that he couldn’t wait to possess her, she doubted she’d make to sundown still a virgin… willing or not. Gaston might not even wait till they were out of the car. Sex outside marriage was strictly forbidden, but sex within government-sanctioned marriage was expected. Consummation on the wedding night was obligatory. There would be an invasive medical exam the morning after her wedding, to confirm sexual activity.

“Gaston Dumerde,” the agent called.

“May as well come with me now, since they’ll be calling your name next,” he said as he stepped level with Belle, holding his arm out. The agent called his name again.

“You’d better go, Gaston,” Belle said, keeping her eyes forward.

With a huff, he dropped his arm. “Fine. You’ll see soon enough. Present!” he called in a louder voice to the steps, where the agents were starting to look around, searching for him in the thong of people. The crowd parted as he strode confidently to the front, because he had that kind of presence.

Belle watched numbly as Gaston presented himself, with his parents standing just behind him. He gave his name and stood still for a picture which the agent compared to the one on file, then he pressed his thumb to a scanner to further confirm his identity. That part done, he was waved to the side to await the next name being called, while his parents were led away. The agent raised his voice again.

“Gaston Dumerde is being paired with…” Belle closed her eyes, feeling her father’s grip on her arm tighten. Her heart pounded and through the roaring in her ears, she heard, “…Zelena Greene!”

“What?” Belle looked at her father, asking silently if she’d heard right.

“They called someone else’s name, sweetheart. You’re not going with Gaston.” He patted her arm in reassurance.

Belle took her first deep breath since she’d received her matching summons. It only took a moment however, for a new fear to hit her. She hadn’t wanted to be married to Gaston, but at least she knew who he was… now she could get anyone.

Belle clutched her father’s hand, still fighting to keep the panic at bay. She tried focusing on the names being called to distract herself, though that was a flawed plan when the announcements were the source of her panic.

“Dorothy Gale!” the announcer called next, and Belle felt a small leap of hope as a tall woman with dark curly hair mounted the steps to the platform.

This woman’s name had been called first in her pairing, which meant she was being matched with another woman. The man’s name was always called first in a mixed-gender pair; if two people of the same gender were being matched, the names were called alphabetically by last names. And L came after G, so Belle closed her eyes and sent a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that the next name would be…

“Ruby Lucas!”

Belle was smiling before she opened her eyes, scanning the crowd to find Ruby hugging her granny before she went up on stage. She went through the identification process before turning to her bride-to-be, raising her hand in a hesitant wave.

Even at this distance, her body language was obvious. Ruby was being shy, and Belle could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d seen her brash, outgoing friend act shy. Every incident involved a woman that Ruby found attractive, and for a moment Belle forgot her own terror, too happy for her to be afraid for herself.

Of course, there was no guarantee that the two of them would be compatible in personality, but Ruby’s first fear had not come to pass. She would go home with a woman to start her new married life, and Belle hoped that this Dorothy Gale, whoever she was, would prove to be a loving partner for Ruby.

She waited, her heart pounding faster and faster with each name called.

“Mr. Gold,” the agent called, and a short, unimposing man made his way up the steps with the aid of a cane. There was no family to accompany him, and the streaks of gray that Belle could see even from this distance, gave further proof that he was older than the average person here. A murmur rose from the crowd. Everyone knew who Mr. Gold was, of course… but he’d been unmatched for as long as anyone could remember. The popular theory was that he had incriminating evidence against the Queen, and that leverage allowed him to stay single. The announcer’s voice drew her attention back to the front.

“Mr. Gold is being paired with… Belle French.”

Her father’s arm tightened on hers again, and Belle again looked to him for confirmation that she’d heard correctly. The announcer’s voice had been strong and clear, and her father was already withdrawing his arm from hers, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

“Good luck, sweetheart,” he whispered, before giving her a gentle push toward the steps.

Belle made her way to the front, looking straight ahead as she climbed the steps, aware of her father just behind her. She followed the instructions mechanically. State your name, hold still for a picture, put your thumb here, till she was told to stand with her fiancé. It was only when she was standing next to him, that she realized he wasn’t that much taller than herself, which was a rarity. Normally, she had to crane her neck to look a man in the eye, but she could tell there would be no need of that with him. She still hadn’t looked him in the eye, but stole sideways glances at him. His face was impassive, giving away no hint of how he felt about the proceedings, or her, or anything really.

As the next name was called, they were escorted into the building, to stand in the central hall of the building, given a numbered square to stand on, and told to wait. All around them, paired couples were exchanging their first awkward pleasantries. Belle stood next to her husband-to-be for a full moment before deciding that it was ridiculous to not at least introduce themselves. She gathered her courage and turned to him.

“Hello,” she managed, through her tight throat. “I’m Belle. Belle French. I guess… it’ll be Belle Gold, soon.”

“Mr. Gold,” he returned shortly, with a nod. She waited for him to offer his first name, but it was not forthcoming. Belatedly, she realized that even the government agent had called him Mr. Gold. Surely he _had_ a first name?

He finally turned his head to look at her.

“My sincere apologies, Miss French, that you’re being forced into this situation at all, but especially with me. I’m sure you had someone your own age with whom you hoped to be paired.”

“There was no one I hoped for, no. There was someone who wanted me, but I didn’t want him.”

“Interesting. Is he here today?”

She nodded, and looked around, easily spotting Gaston because of his height. He and his fiancée were glaring at each other; it looked like they were having their first argument already. 

“Him,” she said, leaning closer to Mr. Gold so she could point out Gaston, but careful not to touch him. “He’s the one who requested me.”

“He’s a handsome fellow,” Mr. Gold commented. “Why didn’t you want him?”

“He’s handsome all right, and he knows it. He’s arrogant, and cruel, and thinks that his family’s money and position mean he can take anything he wants. He would have treated me like property, and I’m no one’s possession.”

“Indeed,” he murmured. He turned to look at her again, and Belle stepped back under the intensity as he looked, really looked at her. She felt a sudden fear that this Mr. Gold knew Gaston’s family and perhaps wouldn’t take kindly to her criticism. His eyes scanned her full length, to the shoes and back up to her face, before saying, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Belle abruptly faced front again, aware that the panic was creeping back up. It was such a relief to say out loud that she wouldn’t be going home with Gaston tonight, that she’d momentarily forgotten who she _would_ be going home with… the enigmatic Mr. Gold. What little she knew of him – through reputation only – wasn’t flattering. He was said to be a ruthless businessman, who never let anyone out of a deal or contract. Beyond that, she knew nothing. The man didn’t seem to have a personal life.

The room around them filled up, one couple at a time, till the large doors behind them closed to signal that everyone was inside. The seating area along the sides of the hall filled with the family members of those being matched today. Belle stood silently through all this, with Mr. Gold just as quiet next to her.

Finally, Queen Regina mounted the dais at the front of the room and held her arms up for quiet.

“Welcome to all my loyal subjects, and congratulations on this most happy occasion.” There was a note of brittle sarcasm in her tone, belying the smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing to us, Belle realized. And she doesn’t care. Or she’s getting some kind of perverse enjoyment out of it.

The group ceremony followed, with the Queen prompting the lines of the marriage vows and the crowd repeating her, en masse. At the end of it, the Queen looked down on them and said, “May the love and happiness you feel today, shine through the years.” She departed with a final smirk at them.

Government agents were moving down their row, getting each couple to sign a marriage contract. When it was their turn, the agent told them brusquely to state their names as he compared them to the pictures he held.

“Belle Colette French,” she answered, with her voice shaking only a little. She’d count that as a win.

The agent looked at the man next to her.

“Mr. Gold,” her new husband answered, his voice clipped.

“I need your full name.”

“The only name you need is Mr. Gold. If you’ll check your list, you’ll find that’s the name you have for me. Do you really want to challenge me, dearie?” The last question was spoken with quiet menace.

The agent – who stood several inches taller than Mr. Gold and was nearly twice as wide with his bulging muscles – gulped and stepped back.

“No, sir. I have your name right here. Mr. Gold, you’re absolutely correct. If you could both just sign, please.”

He held the contract out to them, along with a pen. Mr. Gold signed first, and handed the document to Belle. She steeled herself, and signed her name next to his. With numb fingers, she handed it back to the agent, who bowed to Mr. Gold and fled.

She was married to a stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

The families were escorted from the hall while the newlyweds were occupied signing contracts. Belle scanned both sides, hoping to catch a last glimpse of her father, but there was no sign of him. Soon she was being herded with everyone else through two doors, where an agent would scan their thumbprint and tell them to go to a room identified by a letter. Belle was told to enter Room B, and behind her, heard Mr. Gold being instructed to go to Room C.

Room B looked like some kind of small lecture hall, with rows of seats, a lectern, and screen up front. Belle was being ushered into the rows with everyone else when she saw Ruby just three people ahead of her, and deliberately caught her foot on the leg of a chair as she passed, turning the chair over and faking a stumble to her knees.

It worked. It took only a few seconds before Ruby was at her side, helping her up and asking if she was okay. In the confusion of righting the chair and getting everyone into their seats, no one noticed that Ruby had switched places in line and ended up sitting next to Belle.

They traded secret smiles and found each other’s hands, giving comforting squeezes and waiting till the guards were preoccupied getting the rest of the newlyweds to their seats.

“You got matched with a woman,” Belle whispered. “I’m so happy for you!”

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Ruby whispered back with a secretive grin.

“Very cute. Have you been able to talk to her yet?”

“Just for a moment. Her family lives on that huge farm outside town, and she wants to go back there after the honeymoon. It’s hundreds of acres, Belle.”

“And you love being outside. Sounds like a great match so far.”

“So far, so good,” Ruby agreed. “And uh… Mr. Gold? Have you talked to him?”

Belle shrugged. “Just to introduce myself. He didn’t seem very talkative.”

Two agents passed by, on their way to the front of the room, and they waited till they were several feet away.

“At least he’s not Gaston, right?” Ruby whispered. “Anyone’s better than Gaston.”

“Yeah.”

She wanted to say more, to tell Ruby about how Mr. Gold had frightened a man twice his size without even raising his voice, and she wasn’t sure what that meant about what kind of husband he’d be… but a petite woman entered and took her place behind the lectern. Belle sat up and faced front, prepared to listen, or at least pretend to listen. She squeezed Ruby’s hand again as the woman up front began to speak in that falsely cheerful voice that so many government agents seemed to have perfected.

“Congratulations on your marriage! I’m so glad to be here with you, and play a small part in this, the happiest day of your lives. I’m Fae Cobalt, and it’s my honor to guide you through your newlywed orientation.

“First, it’s important to know that all of you in this room have been designated as caregivers, which means that your new spouses have been designated as providers.” Beside her, Ruby tensed. Belle didn’t like the sound of these assigned roles either. She’d known it was coming, of course, but to be herded into a room and labeled… it was real now. “Each of you will have specific duties in your marriage, and the excellent presentation you’re about to see will give you all the information you need to fulfill those duties.”

She stepped aside, the lights dimmed, and a video started to play on the screen. Belle may not have seen this particular video before, but the graphics, narrating voice, and overall tone was very familiar. All the government videos looked and sounded the same, so it was common to just tune them out. Belle tried hard to pay attention to this one.

There was a tedious recap of how the arranged marriage system came to be, and how it worked so much better than leaving such an important decision up to the whims of frail human emotion. Belle had heard all of it before, and now that she had gone through the matching process herself, was more convinced than ever there was much more to the story than the government had ever admitted.

The perfunctory history lesson was followed by a montage of happy couples going through the motions of daily life… cooking together, running errands in the town square, raising children, and one greeting the other as they arrived home at the end of the day. The couples shown were mostly young mixed-gender pairs, with the occasional older couple or same-gender pair represented. All of them, regardless of gender or age, wore artificial smiles throughout. Surely, someone involved with the making of this video realized how thoroughly unconvincing it was? Perhaps they just didn’t care.

Only after enduring the cloying parade of happily matched couples, were the viewers given information relevant to their newly married status, a kind of guide to a successful marriage according to the government.

_Successful marriages require that both persons have clearly defined roles and duties in the relationship. Therefore, each person is assigned the role of provider or caregiver. The provider will go to work each day, and with their earnings, support their family financially. The caregiver will support their provider in their job, create a comfortable home, and care for the couple’s children._

“This is such nonsense!” Ruby whispered. “I’m supposed to sit inside and wait for my wife to come home, while she gets to go out and enjoy the fresh air?”

“Does this mean that caregivers _can’t_ work?” Belle whispered back. “I can’t go back to my job at the library?”

She hadn’t had a job there, really. It was more of a part-time internship that was part of her studies, but she’d hoped to be hired there in a full-time paid position after she graduated. The Head Librarian had told her that an entry-level position was hers, assuming she was able to accept. That was looking increasingly unlikely.

_Prior to having children, caregivers may work outside the home, as long as their provider has no objections. It is understood that the home and family are the caregiver’s top priority, and no job should interfere with those sacred duties._

Belle exhaled in relief, and felt Ruby relax a little as well, before she realized that she’d have to ask Mr. Gold for permission to work at the library. She had no idea what his answer might be, but why should she have to ask him at all?

Her own mother had worked for most of Belle’s life, till she’d gotten sick two years ago. Belle never realized that her mother had had to ask permission from her father to do so. She was slowly coming to understand, as the orientation video droned on, that her mother had given her a sanitized version of the matching process, and the reality of marriage. She didn’t think her mother had lied to her, just… left some things out. Perhaps she didn’t want to frighten her? Maybe she’d even intended to give her more details before her wedding day, but simply ran out of time?

The lights came back on, and Belle realized that she’d missed the rest of the video while preoccupied with her thoughts. Looking around, she saw reactions ranging from angry, to frightened and confused, while some of the young women just looked resigned.

The woman up front, brittle smile still plastered on her face, was asking if anyone had any questions. No one responded.

“Well then, you can move to your next orientation event. As you leave, an agent will hand you a bag with brochures, covering the same topics shown in the video. We realize that the wedding day is overwhelming, and you may not remember everything. The literature is designed to be a reference for you, in case you forget what we discussed here today. On behalf of Queen Regina, her council, and the government of Storybrooke Island, I wish you nothing but love and happiness in your marriages.”

*

The car door slammed shut behind them and she was alone with her husband of a few hours, after enduring hours of government-sanctioned orientation and a painful dinner during which Mr. Gold sat across from her, not eating and speaking only when she asked him a direct question. His stoic silence concerned her; she was starting to wonder who he was beneath the mask. She still didn’t know his first name. She didn’t know what he might expect of her in their marriage. All she knew were the established procedures.

They were being driven now to one of the mass-produced starter homes set aside for newly married couples. They were required to live there for at least the first month, with the option to stay for a full year. If they had another home to go to at the end of the honeymoon – like Ruby had mentioned with the farm owned by her wife’s family – then they could ask permission to live elsewhere. If they needed the starter home for the full year, they could stay there. If the couple had a child before their first anniversary, they could apply for a family home… but once again, Belle shied away from the thought of children. She needed to get through her wedding night first. Then the rest of the honeymoon. One government-prompted crisis at a time.

For the next month, the only contact allowed with their birth families would be the brief call once a week, and that was monitored by the government. Nor were they allowed to work, or attend school, or leave the house. The standard government line was that this allowed the newlyweds time to get acquainted with one another, but to Belle, a full month spent locked up with a strange man that she was expected to have sex with, sounded more like sexual slavery. How she wished her mother were still alive, to advise her about her wedding night! She had already told Belle some of what to expect, and Belle knew she was lucky to know that much. Formal sex education was forbidden, and covert whispers behind closed doors were the only way to inform any young person about marital duties. Of course, many young people found other ways to educate themselves, and even had secretive sex before their matching day… but the penalties if caught were severe. Belle had never felt strongly enough about anyone to risk the punishment.

Belle snuck another glance at her husband. He wasn’t young, and it was a mystery how he’d remained unattached for this long. Being unmarried was not allowed. He’d also had no family present at the matching, which was perhaps not so unexpected, given his age. Perhaps his parents had passed away already.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Belle was again the one to break it.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked, for lack of anything better to call him. “I noticed… that you didn’t have any family at the matching ceremony.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“May I ask why?”

“My parents are long dead, and my… there is no one else,” he finished, still facing front. There was nothing to look at but the dark tinted partition that separated them from the driver, but he seemed insistent on looking straight ahead.

“How is it that you haven’t married before now?” she asked, wondering if she was provoking him but curious enough to risk it. If there was a way to escape this arranged marriage, then why didn’t everyone use it?

“What makes you think I wasn’t?”

“No one’s… ever seen you with a wife, or husband,” she answered. “I mean… everyone knows who you are, if you were married people would know that, surely?”

“Everyone knows who I am? Including you?”

“Only… your reputation.”

He made eye contact, finally.

“And what does my reputation say?” he said softly, and she felt the challenge he handed her. Would she tell the unvarnished truth? She tried not to even blink as she responded.

“That you’re a ruthless business man, that you like to make deals and you never let anyone break them. That you’re rich. That you gained your wealth by being heartless.”

“Is it heartless to expect people to uphold their end of a bargain, which they freely agreed to?” he asked. “Is it heartless to abide by the parameters clearly set out in a contract?”

“No,” she whispered, as her courage fled. The marriage contract that they’d both signed stated very specifically that the marriage was to be consummated tonight. And he just told her that he never broke a contract. His eyes flicked over her again, assessing, and Belle realized that she was cowering in the corner of the seat like a child. She forced herself to sit up and meet his gaze squarely. “You’re right… people should honor the agreements they make… _if_ they enter into the contract of their own free will.” She raised her chin, challenging him.

The barest smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You caught that detail, did you? Tell me, Miss French… the marriage contract that you signed today, did you sign it of your own free will?”

“No.”

“Why did you sign it?”

“The alternative is worse. So in the sense that I don’t want to be dragged into a conversion clinic and reprogrammed, then I suppose you could say I was willing. But when person’s participation in an activity is given only because of coercion or threat, are they really willing?”

“Indeed not,” he answered. Both corners of his mouth were twitching now. He was almost smiling. “I suppose that would make our marriage contract null and void.”

“That’s… that’s the way it seems to me, yes,” she answered, startled. She hadn’t expected him to agree. It almost sounded like he wasn’t going to hold her to her marital duties, but that couldn’t be. He might be well past the horniness of the typical young man on his wedding night, but he was still a man. Belle was aware that men considered her beautiful and desirable. Did this man not want her in that way? Then why were they even here, in this car headed toward their starter home?

The car rolled to a stop, and the driver got out and opened Mr. Gold’s door. Belle waited, hands in lap and fighting nerves, until her door was opened by Mr. Gold himself. He held the door and gestured in a sweeping motion, inviting her to step out.

She gawked at the house before her… not the standard white government housing, but a large two-story house painted pink.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking around. It was late in the day and only a dim glow remained from the setting sun, but there was enough light for her to see that the yard was vast, with trees forming a border. She couldn’t see another house from here. Or the road.

“This is my home,” he answered, encouraging her to step away from the car so he could close the door.

“But.. I thought…”

“One of the advantages to having money and influence, is being able to circumvent the rules you don’t like. At the last moment, I was able to arrange for us to live here, rather than the government housing.” He spoke to the driver, instructing him to bring Belle’s bag of personal effects inside, before turning back to her. “Would you like to see your new home, Miss French?”

She nodded numbly and followed him up the steps. They were through the door before she realized that he was still calling her by her maiden name.

After a tour of the rooms closest to the front door, including the den, office, and kitchen, he led the way upstairs. Belle followed, knowing that he would show her their bedroom next, and reminding herself to breathe. He opened the first door on the left, revealing a bedroom.

“I thought you might like this for your room.”

“My room?” She looked back and forth between him and the open door. “What do you mean?”

“This room is yours… if you want it. If you prefer to peruse the other bedrooms available, and choose one of them, that’s quite all right. The only rooms not available are mine, there.” He gestured across the hall at a closed door. “And the one at the end of the hall, on the right. I keep that room for… someone else. You may choose any other room you like.”

“We’re not… sharing a room?” She had to force herself to ask the question. “Sharing a bed?”

He looked at her steadily, and raised one eyebrow before asking, “Can you honestly say that you want to share your bed with a stranger?”

“No, but… the marriage contract,” she whispered, unable to believe what he seemed to be saying.

“I told you, Miss French. A contract entered into without consent is not a valid contract. I will not hold you to the terms of the one you signed today. You should find everything you need in the bedroom or the adjoining bathroom. I have some business to attend to, so I’ll leave you to settle in.”

He left, and Belle stood in the hall for a moment, feeling at a loss. She shook off the confusion and entered the room, looking around. The room seemed comfortable, with adequate windows and large fluffy pillows on the bed, but it was devoid of personal touches. No photographs, no art on the walls, no knick-knacks. The walls were a standard white, the blanket and pillows a neutral light blue, with not even a pattern to add some character. This was clearly a guest room, and didn’t have the feel of one that was used very often.

She opened the closet, finding it empty. That could be a problem. She should have had marriage uniforms waiting for her at their assigned house, but coming here instead had apparently left her with only the clothes on her back.

She checked the bathroom next and found that it was well stocked, as Mr. Gold had said. Clean towels, an assortment of toiletries, and feminine hygiene products were neatly lined up in the linen closet or under the sink. There were two robes hanging on the back of the door – one a lightweight silk and the other a heavy fabric that promised to be warm. Matching slippers waited on the floor. It seemed that Mr. Gold had put some thought into her comfort. She took note of the bathtub, which was a novelty for her. At her father’s house, she’d only had a shower stall.

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Belle went back out into the bedroom, finding the driver at the door with her bag. He loomed in the doorway where he stood respectfully on the other side of the threshold, and handed her bag to her with a nod and a murmured, “Mrs. Gold.” He gave a short bow before walking away.

Belle set the bag on the bed and took out the few books and pictures she’d opted to bring with her, setting them around the room. That was a little better. She put the empty bag in the closet, and then sat on the bed, wondering what to do next. Mr. Gold said he had work to do, and had disappeared. She was curious about the rest of the house, but unsure if she was welcome to explore it.

She went back to the door and looked down the hall in both directions, then stood at the top of the stairs to look down there as well. Mr. Gold was no where to be seen, and the only sound was the steady tick-tick-tick of a grandfather clock marking the seconds.

Well, he did say that she could choose another room if she wanted. She’d need to look in the rooms before she could choose one, right?

Moving quietly, she passed the room that Mr. Gold said was his, and opened the next door on the right. Also a guest room, and just as devoid of personality. The bedspread was maroon and there was no adjoining bathroom, but otherwise it was very similar to her room. The bedroom across from it had pale gray bedding. The last room on the left was a bathroom, which like hers was well stocked.

Belle hesitated in front of the last closed door, the one that Mr. Gold said he kept for someone else, which seemed rather vague. If it was for a family member or close friend, why not just say so? She took one more furtive glance down the hall before slowly turning the knob and pushing the door open, to reveal the only room she’d seen that looked lived in. The linens and curtains were decorated with sports equipment, and pictures of athletes adorned the walls. There were books and trinkets on the shelves. The drawers of the dresser hadn’t been closed completely, and bit of fabric hung out of one. A pair of shoes were on the floor next to the bed, like they’d been carelessly kicked off.

Belle saw all of this from the hall, and tried to resist the urge to enter the room, feeling that would be a violation of privacy. This room clearly belonged to someone, and she should respect his personal space. She felt sure that the inhabitant had been male, and probably young, not yet an adult. Making up her mind, she stepped into the room and looked in the closet, confirming her suspicion when the clothes looked to belong to a teenage boy. A quick scan of the books on the shelves revealed several stories that she knew had been popular among teen readers, but from several years ago. None of the more recent young adult books were included.

She gave a final look around the room before exiting, closing the door quietly behind herself. She would have loved to explore the room’s contents further, but made herself walk away before she committed further trespasses.

Back in her own room, she deliberated several moments before deciding to indulge in a hot bath, something she’d never done before, and found that the steaming water helped to soothe her tight muscles, easing the tension that she’d been holding since she received her notice on Thursday. She dried off, noticing that the towels were much softer and clearly of higher quality than she’d had at her childhood home, and put on the silk robe, then the warmer one on top of it. Trying to think ahead to tomorrow, she hung her wedding uniform up in the closet and washed her underclothes in the bathroom sink. She wrung them out thoroughly and draped them over the bar in the bathtub, hoping they would dry by morning.

One last look down the hall showed that the house was as quiet as it had been since her arrival. There was no sign of Mr. Gold, and no indication of what she was expected to do. Well then, she would do what pleased her.

She picked up _Her Handsome Hero_ from her small stack of books and lifted the covers on the bed, crawling beneath and settling into the softness of the pillows. Opening the book to a random place in the middle, she started to read. It wasn’t long before the stress of the last two days caught up with her, and she fell asleep with the light still on.

***

Belle awoke with a start the next morning, remembering nothing since opening her book last night. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and why she was here. 

After splashing water on her face in her private bathroom, she opened the closet where she’d hung up her wedding uniform from the night before. She sighed, and took the wrinkled dress off the hanger, putting it on. She brushed her hair, but didn’t bother with makeup. A knot of anxiety was building up in her again, much like when she’d received her marriage notice, but this time, she had even less idea of what was expected of her. She needed to find out, and for that, she needed to go downstairs and talk to her husband.

Although… _was_ he her husband? Since they hadn’t consummated the marriage? Their laws were very clear… consummation was required for a marriage to be valid.

Steeling herself, she opened her bedroom door and ventured out into the hallway. The bedroom across from hers door stood ajar, but she didn’t see Mr. Gold in there. She made her way slowly downstairs, trying to make as little noise as possible as she searched the rooms he’d shown her last night… living room, den, kitchen, the breakfast nook… the door that he’d told her was his office, was closed. She could hear his voice behind it. 

She hesitated, but knocked lightly on the door. There was a pause, then a ‘come in’ through the door.

He sat behind a desk piled high with paperwork, one hand over the mouthpiece of a phone.

“Good morning,” Belle volunteered.

“Good morning,” he said with a slight frown, as though he was trying to remember who she was. His gaze swept her up and down. “Why are you wearing your clothes from yesterday?”

“I… didn’t have anything else,” she confessed. “My married uniforms should have been at our assigned house, but since we didn’t go there…”

“Ahh. I will arrange to have your clothes brought here from our assigned house. You can help yourself to whatever you like in the kitchen for breakfast. I have business to attend to, if you’ll excuse me.”

He lifted the phone to his mouth and looked at her pointedly. As she slipped out and closed the door behind her, she could hear him resume his conversation.

She made her way back to the kitchen and had a simple breakfast of toast and tea. Afterward, for lack of anything better to do, she perused the shelves in the den for a good hour, studying the collection of oddities on the shelves. He seemed to be quite a packrat.

The sound of the doorbell was so loud, and unexpected in this tomb of a house, that she nearly dropped the object she was holding.

“Coming,” she heard Mr. Gold’s voice call.

Belle stole a glance around the doorway.

A man stood on the porch, a medical bag in hand. Belle gasped and withdrew. She’d forgotten all about the medical exam. She heard their voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying till Mr. Gold called her name.

“Miss French? Come out here, please.”

She obeyed, with the uncertainty of what was about to happen making her breath come fast and her palms sweat. What would happen when the doctor examined her and saw no evidence of sexual activity?

“See?” Mr. Gold said to the doctor when Belle stood next to him “She’s present and in one piece. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, of course. Good day, Mr. Gold. Mrs. Gold.” With a tip of an imaginary hat, he was gone. Mr. Gold closed the door and made his way past her, moving slowly with the aid of his cane.

“What just happened?” Belle asked. “I was supposed to get an exam, and… and that exam wouldn’t give him the answer the government’s looking for. How did you get him to go away?”

“Money, Miss French. Having money can make almost any situation bearable. Almost.”

He was still moving toward his office, not even stopping to look at her as he answered.

“Stop, please!” Belle begged, and the tapping of his cane on the floor ceased. “I’m so confused. If we’re not… if this isn’t going to be a marriage, then why am I here?”

He turned, his cane planted precisely between his feet and both hands folded over the gold handle.

“You are here, Miss French, because after many years of avoiding the government’s matching system, even my money and influence couldn’t delay them any longer. I prefer living alone, and never intended to marry. However, the government has spoken, and so here you are. It’s not my intention to hold you to the marriage contract you signed, or keep you here at all, but as this illusion would shatter should you leave my home, I suggest you stay here. You’ll be safe from the government, and I promise that you’re safe from me. Is there anything else?”

Her mouth opened and closed several times, as she searched for words. This was not how she’d imagined her wedding night, or the morning after. She never could have anticipated this enigmatic man and his declaration that he would not participate in the government’s coercion.

He seemed to take her silence as an answer, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Belle called. He turned back, with exaggerated patience.

“Yes, Miss French?”

“What am I to do?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If I can’t leave your house for fear of the government, but you don’t want me to be your wife… how am I to occupy my time?”

“Ahh. I confess that I hadn’t thought of that. Well, you may have the run of the house and there’s also a very nice garden. Explore as much as you wish.”

“Your house is large, but not large enough to entertain me for an entire month,” she countered, though she was relieved to get belated permission to explore. He didn’t need to know about her curious wanderings last night. “If I were home, I’d have my university studies to occupy me, and my friends, my hobbies. Here, though… I have nothing to do.”

“What do you like to do then, Miss French?”

Her mind went blank for a moment, and she mentally scrambled for something to say. _Come on, Belle, it’s not a difficult question!_

“Books,” she blurted, just as he was starting to look impatient. “I like to read books.”

“Is that so?” One side of his mouth quirked, in what might have been a smile. “Well then, you’re in luck. Come with me.”

He turned away and led her down a long hall that they hadn’t explored last night, opening the door at the end and ushering her inside.

Belle gasped as she took in the room, with its vaulted ceiling towering far above her. The four walls were covered, from floor and nearly to the ceiling, with bookshelves, and they were loaded with books. She knew right away that many of the volumes were old; she’d know the smell of antique books anywhere. She’d spent so many hours with the ancient texts at the library, pouring over them for the priceless knowledge they contained. As if the countless tomes on the walls weren’t enough to thrill her, there were free-standing bookshelves throughout the room, holding even more treasures. Both ends of the room held fireplaces, with comfortable-looking seats in front of them. Tall windows on either side of the room let in abundant sunlight, and each had a wide ledge at the bottom with cushions and pillows. A pair of double doors with glass in them lead to the outside, and she saw a lot of greenery… surely the garden he’d mentioned.

“Will this suffice, to occupy your attention?”

She’d forgotten that Mr. Gold was there. His question brought her focus back to him just long enough to nod, before she went back to admiring the paradise around them.

“I could live in this room,” she breathed, not aware that she’d spoken aloud till he chuckled.

“Well, I dare say you’ll want food at some point, but the kitchen isn’t far away. Read as many books as you want; the library is yours, Miss French.”

He walked away, leaving her standing amongst more books than she’d ever seen in one room. Only her respect for the sanctity of all libraries kept her from screaming her joy to the vaulted ceiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle explores the library. She and Mr. Gold share their first meal together, and start to get acquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that there are references to non-consensual situations in this fic. Nothing non-consensual happens on screen.
> 
> Also, I’ve decided not to update this fic next week, since it will be so close to Christmas and I figure most people will be busy with holiday stuff. I’ll be back with chapter four the weekend after Christmas. Happy Holidays, everyone!

Holding in the happy squeal that wanted to escape, Belle moved to the nearest bookcase and ran her finger across the titles, reading as she went. This one seemed to contain history books. She moved to the next and found texts on psychology and sociology; the next had works of classic literature. Continuing her exploration at the shelves that covered every wall, she found that the entire library was roughly organized by subject. The sections themselves didn’t seem to be labeled, as there was nothing to indicate that the shelf she stood in front of now, held biography books. She wondered why for a moment, before reasoning that a perfect organization system wasn’t necessary in a private library. No doubt Mr. Gold himself knew which shelf to search if he wanted information on a particular topic.

Belle worked her way around the perimeter of the room, feeling like an explorer in a strange land making her first tentative journey to learn the new terrain. A map would be useful, she thought, and realized that she could make her own. Perhaps she could even put some sort of sign above each section to indicate what sort of books were there, and label the individual books, and compile a list of every book in the library. Yes, that would be a worthwhile project to occupy her time… assuming Mr. Gold didn’t mind.

At the thought of her husband, Belle paused in her perusal of the science section. She couldn’t be absolutely sure that he was her husband, legally. The uncertainty of her situation left her feeling a bit on edge. She needed to talk to him, to find out exactly what he expected of her. He’d made it clear this morning that he was busy and did not want to be disturbed, but perhaps over lunch? Or dinner? They would take _some_ meals together, surely?

Who was this man with the fearsome reputation, who asked nothing of her? Who had enough power and influence to evade the marriage assignment for years, who even now was circumventing the required medical exam and assigned housing? This man who seemed to want nothing to do with her, yet had given her a comfortable room and the use of this gorgeous library?

She needed to find out more about him, but perhaps not right this moment. He’d looked busy and had clearly hoped that this library would occupy her for a bit while he worked, and she couldn’t think of any better way to pass the time than surrounded by books. Overwhelmed by the choices all around her, she resorted to closing her eyes and trailing her fingers along the books as she took several steps. When she stopped walking and looked, her hand was on a book bound in reddish-brown leather in the legal section. Not her usual reading material, but today wasn’t a usual sort of day.

She pulled the book from the shelf and chose a window seat bathed in sunlight. She pulled two fluffy pillows from the couch to prop behind her back, and opened the large volume to the table of contents. She skimmed her finger down the list till she paused on a chapter titled, “Laws Governing Marriage and Family.” She’d looked for legal resources just like this, as her graduation from university neared. She knew, from her father and other whispers from older people, that the current system of forced matches had not always been in effect. Exactly why the government had seen fit to put this system into place, no one seemed to have a good answer. All anyone knew was that the decree had gone out one day.

Belle flipped to the chapter and began to read, finding to her disappointment that it was just a repeat of everything she already knew about the current laws. She persisted anyway, hoping there would be something in this book that she hadn’t read before. The legal jargon was difficult to comprehend, forcing her to read some sentences more than once. At one point, she got up to look for a legal dictionary, finding one on the same shelf where she’d pulled her random choice of reading material.

She fell into her study, and didn’t stir till the sun had moved to the other side of the house, depriving her of its warmth. She sat up, looking around for a clock, and found that it was almost four in the afternoon. She’d read most of the day away.

Standing up and stretching her limbs after so long curled up on the narrow seat, she decided to seek out her new husband and see if he was available to talk. First though, she chose two books at random from the fiction section, and took them to her room for bedtime reading. She descended the stairs and glanced through the rooms there before approaching the office, where the door was once again closed. She knocked softly.

“Yes?” The call from inside came immediately, so hopefully he wasn’t on another call.

Belle opened the door slowly, staying in the hallway. He was still at his desk, this time reading from a sheaf of papers.

“May I come in?”

“What do you need, Miss French?”

She chose to take that as a yes, and stepped inside, staying by the door.

“I was wondering… if you had any plans for dinner.”

“As I said this morning, you can help yourself to whatever you like in the kitchen. There are prepared meals in the refrigerator and freezer. I believe the heating instructions are included with each.”

“Prepared meals?” she asked. His answer was not what she expected.

“Yes. I employ a woman who keeps house for me, and also cooks meals. She will not be here for the next month, as the government believes that we should spend our first month alone, without outside interference. However, I asked her to prepare meals before she left, so help yourself.”

“When will you eat?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I thought perhaps, we could sit down together?” she asked, twisting her hands in her skirt. “It would give us a chance to talk. We could… get to know each other a little.”

He studied her over the papers he still held, as if trying to figure her out.

“Can you honestly say, Miss French, that you want to get acquainted with the Beast of Storybrooke?” She tried not to react to that, but he saw her expression change, giving her a smile that was somehow feral. “Yes, I know what they call me. And you’re telling me that you want to sit down to dinner with a monster?”

“You don’t seem like much of a beast to me,” Belle said honestly. “You’ve treated me very well since we met yesterday. I prefer to judge people based on my own first-hand knowledge of them, rather than rumors.”

“Very commendable. But that still doesn’t explain why you want to eat dinner with me.”

“Why not?” she asked, becoming frustrated. “The alternative is that we spend the next month in this house trying to pretend that the other doesn’t exist, and that doesn’t make any sense! And what happens after the honeymoon is over? We’ll still have to maintain the illusion of being married, right? We’ll still be sharing this house, so why shouldn’t we at least talk?”

She waited, but he was unnervingly silent. She tried one last time, in a softer voice. “If I won’t have the opportunity to know another person for the next month, can’t I at least know you?”

The moment stretched between them, till he resumed reading his papers and answered without looking at her.

“Alright, Miss French. I usually eat at 6:00 pm.”

“All right. I’ll see you at 6:00.” Belle smiled at her small victory, and backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

She wandered off to see what sort of prepared foods had been left by the cook, realizing just how hungry she was. She’d been so excited by the library, that she forgot lunchtime. A bowl of fruit on the counter was too tempting, and she ate a banana to appease her growling stomach till 6:00.

By the time Mr. Gold stepped into the kitchen at five minutes to the hour, Belle was taking a casserole from the oven. Two place settings were on the kitchen island, and she was boiling water for tea, having found a cabinet with a variety of teas, some of which she’d never heard of before.

“Why are we eating in the kitchen?” he asked.

“Oh… well. I saw your dining room, but it just seemed so formal. I thought, since it was just the two of us, we could eat in here?”

He shrugged, and she took that as assent.

“I didn’t know what you like,” she said to him, “but I reasoned that your cook would only have made dishes she knows you like, so I just picked something. This seems to be chicken, rice, and vegetables, all in one meal. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, Miss French, but you didn’t have to go to any trouble. You’re not here to be my servant.”

“I didn’t mind,” she told him. “I used the time while it was warming, to explore your kitchen.”

She placed the casserole on the island between their plates, and set the tea to steep. The variety she’d chosen seemed like it would make a nice after-dinner beverage, and she just hoped that she’d chosen correctly.

She pulled herself onto the high stool at the kitchen island and scooped some food onto her plate, since he was still standing there, seemingly at a loss for how this dinner tradition was supposed to work. It seemed she would be compelled to lead the way.

“May I?” she asked, holding a full spoon over his plate.

“Of course. Thank you.” He took a seat finally, balancing his cane on the edge of the counter.

Belle took a bite and hummed appreciatively. “Your cook knows her business.”

“Yes, she does. I wouldn’t have continued to employ her, otherwise.” He picked up his fork and started to eat, finally, and Belle suppressed a sigh of relief. She’d started to be concerned that he would simply sit there and stare at her throughout the meal.

“So, Mr. Gold. What do you like to do?” she asked, throwing back the question he’d asked her earlier today.

“Do?”

“Yes. What are your hobbies, when you’re not working?”

“I don’t have hobbies. I have my work.”

“Alright then.” Belle altered her question, refusing to be waylaid in her quest for knowledge about her enigmatic husband of a day. “What sort of work do you do? Your… reputation doesn’t make that quite clear.”

“For the most part, I own and manage various properties in town and the surrounding countryside. My income derives from the rent on those properties. I’m also a licensed lawyer, specializing in contracts, and I own the pawn shop in town. When I’m not being compelled to stay in my house for a month at a time, I would normally spend most of my day there. The shop usually isn’t busy, so I can make my phone calls or work on the computer there as easily as--”

“You have a computer?” Belle asked, shocked enough to interrupt him.

“I have two. One at the shop and one here.”

“I’ve never known someone who had their own computer.” She stared at him. “I thought only the government was allowed to have them.”

“Money can buy you many exceptions, Miss French.”

“Right.” She filed away this new information and tried to resume the conversation. “Sorry, I interrupted you. So what else do you do when you’re at the shop?”

“Sometimes, I work in the back room repairing and restoring antiques before putting them on sale in the shop.”

“So you like antiques, and I can tell from your home that you like nice things. Do you enjoy the restoration work?”

“Yes, I do. The amount I’m able to reasonably charge for the finished product is rarely enough to adequately compensate me for my time, so I do it as much for the satisfaction of restoring a beautiful item to its former glory, as for the pay I receive.”

“So… would you say that restoring antiques is your _hobby_?” Belle asked, with a sing-song inflection. She was teasing him, just a little, and she’d never heard of anyone teasing Mr. Gold or cracking a joke in his presence. She waited for his reaction.

To her relief, he chuckled. “I suppose so, yes. Though it’s still my work, as well.”

“And I know you like books,” Belle prompted.

“What makes you say that?”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Have you _seen_ your own library?”

“Of course. Well, you’ve caught me, Miss French. I do indeed enjoy reading. Most people in town don’t know that about me, because they’ve never been allowed inside my house and therefore never seen my library.”

“So you’re saying… that I know a secret about you, that no one else knows?” she tried another gentle tease.

“I suppose you do. I hope you won’t use that knowledge against me.”

“I’m sure your business rivals would find a way to destroy you with that knowledge,” she said, mock-serious.

“You’d be surprised, Miss French, what one person can use against another.”

She took a sip of water, letting herself think about which question she wanted to ask next, finally deciding on something simple.

“Why do you keep calling me Miss French?”

“Is that not the name you gave me at the marriage ceremony?”

“It is… but from the moment we both said our vows and signed the contract, I became Mrs. Gold. I’m sure the government would want you to call me by my married name.”

He made a show of looking around the room. “Do you see any government agents in here?” She shook her head. “So we don’t have to abide by their rules, not inside this house. We talked yesterday about the invalidity of a contract entered into by force; nothing has changed since then. The government may consider us married, but I don’t think we are. Do you?”

“I don’t feel married,” she confessed.

“Well, then.”

“So why not call me by my first name? Belle,” she added, in case he’d forgotten.

“Using first names implies a degree of familiarity that I don’t believe our relationship has earned yet,” he answered.

“Right,” she said faintly, thrown off-balance by the reminder that they were still strangers to one another.

“Miss French, I apologized to you yesterday, that you were thrown into this uncomfortable situation with me. Nothing has changed since then. This barbaric system implemented by our government isn’t fair to anyone, no matter who they are paired with, but I have particular sympathy for anyone unfortunate enough to be shackled to me.”

“Well, I don’t know… it hasn’t been so bad,” Belle said.

He scoffed, not looking at her but instead focusing on his meal.

“I’m serious,” Belle insisted. “Do you know what I expected, the morning after my wedding? Do you want to know my greatest fear?”

“It’s dangerous to trust a monster with your fears,” he cautioned.

“You’re not a monster.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that, Miss French, but you look like you have something you badly need to say, so say it if you must.”

“My greatest fear was that I would be assigned to marry Gaston… the man I showed you yesterday?” she questioned, to be sure he remembered. He nodded. “Or someone like him. Someone self-centered and without empathy, who would view this insane tradition as his permission to do whatever he wanted with me. What I feared was that by the morning after my wedding, I’d be curled up on the bathroom floor sobbing after being raped repeatedly all night. That my new husband would be pounding on the door, shouting for me to come out so he could have his way with me yet again… and there would be absolutely _nothing_ I could do about it, but submit to his will. That’s what I feared, Mr. Gold.” Her voice was shaking by the time she finished, and she dabbed at her eyes with a clean corner of her napkin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking stricken. “No one should have to be that afraid.”

“Instead, I was paired with you. And you brought me here to this gorgeous house, gave me my own room, demanded nothing of me; you even gave me free run of your amazing library. So please believe me when I say, that although I would prefer not to have my husband chosen for me, given the circumstances I’m glad that I was matched with you.”

“Well, I’m glad that I could surpass your expectations for your wedding night, Miss French. Though given where you set the standard, I would have to be a monster indeed, to be any worse than that.”

She smiled at her plate, and they ate in silence for a moment.

“What were your expectations?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“When I received my notice, I reacted with fear. What was your first reaction?”

Silence for a moment, except for their forks clinking against the plates.

“Resignation,” he said finally.

“All right. Why resigned?”

“I knew this day would come eventually. I knew that I would run out of excuses not to be matched, and be forced to marry. I knew that I would have no choice in who I married… though I have to say, I agree with you, that my partner could have been much worse.”

“Well… it’s not much, but it’s something. Here’s to not being each other’s worst option,” Belle said, raising her glass for a toast.

He clicked his glass against hers, looking bemused.

“You really don’t mind being here, do you?” he asked.

“No, I don’t. Though I do feel a bit adrift.”

“In what way?”

“Well… the system is awful, but at least when all your choices are taken away and the government tells you what to do, then… well, you know what’s expected of you. Now, I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to do, or what the rules are, or what you want from this relationship.”

“I want nothing from you, Miss French. Neither are you bound to me by any choice of mine. You could walk out the door right now, and I wouldn’t stop you.”

“But the government would.”

“Yes. Which is why I advise you to stay here, and maintain the illusion that we are like any other newly married couple, observing the honeymoon isolation period.”

“And after that?” Belle asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You made the doctor go away this morning; you spared me the indignity of a medical exam. Thank you for that, but have you thought about the next test we’ll be subjected to? The interview at the end of our honeymoon, when we’ll be asked questions about each other’s personality and habits, to prove that we’ve gotten to know each other?”

“I confess that I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“And you know the next thing that the authorities look for, within the first few months of marriage? Signs of pregnancy. Which they won’t see with me, since we’re not… you know.”

“Indeed.”

“So there’s a very high likelihood that I’ll be compelled to undergo an invasive medical exam then, to find out why I’m not getting pregnant. The government won’t simply shrug and walk away if we appear to not be obeying their asinine rules.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct, Miss French. What do you propose we do about this?” he asked, and Belle couldn’t help smiling at his use of the word _propose_ before she sobered.

“How about a more permanent solution?” she asked, trying not to hold her breath. She didn’t want him to see how nervous she was, but still didn’t know him very well, and what she was about to say could backfire on her spectacularly if his views were more aligned with the government than they seemed.

“Such as?” he prompted, as if humoring her.

“How about…” She looked at him directly and tried to sound decisive. “We change this arranged marriage law?”

He froze for a long moment before setting his fork down with a quiet clink on the edge of the plate, and pulling the napkin from his lap to wipe his mouth. Only then did he look at her. Belle waited, refusing to be the one to look away.

“What you’re saying would be tantamount to overthrowing the government,” he said in a quiet, controlled tone, enunciating each word clearly. 

“Fine, then.” Belle leaned forward, and spoke just as clearly, but raised her voice. She’d said it now. There was no taking it back. “Let’s overthrow the government.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A difference of opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would update this story last weekend, and then my mom came to town for a visit and we were on the run all weekend long, and I forgot to post. Almost forgot this weekend as well, but I'm just getting it in under the wire.

It felt like several long moments before either of them moved, or even blinked. Belle waited for his answer, wondering if her impulsive streak had gotten her into real trouble this time.

Mr. Gold was the one to break the impasse, reaching for his cane that he’d hooked over the counter’s edge. He stepped carefully to the floor and smoothed his tie before meeting her eyes.

“Miss French, what you are suggesting would lead to nothing but stress and heartbreak for both of us. You don’t know the Queen and the members of her Council as I do; we cannot hope to defeat them.”

He turned to leave the room, and Belle slid from her stool to follow.

“Wait!” She caught up to him and patted his arm to get his attention. “How can you just sit back and accept this?”

He spoke without looking at her, focusing instead on the hall that led to his office, as if visualizing his escape.

“To go against the government would endanger us, and the people we love. I ask you not to speak of this again.”

“Don’t you _want_ things to change?”

“Of course I do!” He spun to face her, demonstrating admirable balance and coordination for a man who used a cane. “But what, exactly, is your plan? Shall we invade Town Hall with guns blazing? Take the Queen prisoner till she bows to our demands?”

“Of course not! There’s more than one way to challenge authority. Please, just hear me out.”

He planted his cane between his feet and folded his hands over the handle, adopting what she’d already started to think of as his ‘exaggerated patience’ pose. Belle took a breath, trying to center herself. She might only get one chance at this.

“Just now, you said you specialize in legal contracts.”

He gave a brief nod.

“I saw an entire bookcase of legal references in your library. Want to know what my specialty is?”

“Do tell.”

“Research. Top of my class in Research Methodology and Investigative Techniques at Storybrooke University. I’m also extraordinarily gifted at learning and translating languages, according to my professors.”

“Impressive.”

He sounded as if he meant it. Belle was accustomed to people – mostly men – mocking her talents at research and translation. Gaston had once asked her why she aspired to be a walking encyclopedia of useless information, and even her father had frequently asked why she couldn’t pursue a more practical course of study.

“You’re familiar with the law. I’m good at research and translation,” Belle said. “So here’s my idea. Since we’re stuck here for the next month, we use that time to strategize. Perhaps we can find something in that vast library of yours that could help us.”

“ _That’s_ your plan?” he asked, obviously underwhelmed.

“It’s the _beginnings_ of a plan. It’s not complete,” she confessed.

“Not a bad start,” he allowed, “but do you really think that no one’s ever thought of that before?”

“So it’s not the most original plan. Other people may have thought of it before, but other people aren’t us.”

He smiled, just a little. The shape of his mouth hardly changed, but it showed in his eyes. Belle could see it there, focused as she was on his soulful brown eyes. She’d always thought she preferred bright blue eyes, but there was something about his that pulled her into their depths.

“Well, aren’t you the confident one? You really think you can find something that no one else has?”

“It won’t hurt to try, right? Come on,” she cajoled. “No harm ever came from reading a book.”

Now his mouth moved, one side quirking up. “That depends on the book, and the reader. Something tells me, Miss French, that the right – or wrong – book placed in your hands could be very dangerous indeed.”

She relaxed a little, seeing his willingness to continue talking.

“Well, knowledge is power. Books provide knowledge, so I firmly believe that books can be weapons under the right circumstances. They’ve always been my weapon of choice, and they’ve served me well so far.” His head tilted, studying her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m wondering where you got all this optimism and nerve.”

“My mother. She taught me that I should always see the best in people, and to always do the brave thing.”

“It sounds like the two of you are close.”

“Yes. We were,” Belle said simply, and saw that he noticed her use of the past tense, but didn’t elaborate. Her mother was still an emotional topic for her. “Please, can we step back in the kitchen, and sit down? I’ll pour the tea, and we can talk.”

He hesitated, but answered, “We can talk, Miss French. I must admit to being fascinated by the workings of your mind, and that curiosity alone prompts me to keep listening to you, even if you are unlikely to change my answer.”

They returned to the kitchen and he waved her back to her seat, going to the teapot himself. He checked the container label and nodded his approval.

“I didn’t know what your favorite was, so I just picked something that smelled good,” Belle offered.

“It’s a good choice, Miss French. An earthy flavor, an excellent complement to the rustic meal we just had.”

He reached up into the cupboard, his coat riding up with the motion, and Belle’s eyes were drawn down, to his rear outlined by his tailored pants. He pulled down two tea cups with saucers, the blue flower design on the side of the cups matching the tea pot, before turning to ask, “Do you need sugar?”

Belle snatched her gaze away, feeling her face heat. She murmured “yes, please” and he took down the sugar bowl as well, giving her a chance to compose herself. He was her husband, after all. If they’d done as they were supposed to last night, she would have already done a lot more than look at him.

Mr. Gold brought her cup and sugar to her before retrieving his own, and sitting at the kitchen island again. They took their first sips, before he cleared his throat.

“It must have been difficult to say goodbye to your… family, when you got your marriage notice.”

“It was just my father and I, by the time I got my notice, but yes… it was difficult to say goodbye to him. My mother passed away, a little less than a year ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss French.”

“Thank you.”

They seemed to run out of words at that, and sipped their tea in silence for a moment.

“What would your mother think of you planning a rebellion?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

Belle thought about it for a moment, and smiled. “I think she would have supported it. She always said she was lucky that she and my father grew to love each other, but she had friends who weren’t so fortunate, who never developed more than tolerance for their assigned partners, or even had to endure abusive marriages, all because of this intolerable system. She would want to see it end.”

“And your father? What will he think?”

Belle sighed, trying to think of how to explain her father. “He’d probably tell me not to stir up trouble. My father… something changed in him after my mother died. If she were still alive, and she were the one suggesting this, he’d support her. But losing her took all the fight out of him. Now, he’s resigned to remarrying whoever the government matches him with. His period of mourning will be over soon.”

“Your father is beyond caring… so are you doing this to honor your mother’s memory?”

“No! Though I like to think that she’ll be smiling from the afterlife, should we succeed. But that’s not why. I want to do it because I should decide for myself, how I live my life and who I choose to marry. I’m doing it because we should all have that choice.”

“Indeed.”

“So… you’re the lawyer. How does a law get changed in Storybrooke?” Belle asked, bringing the conversation back to where they’d started before he tried to leave, and hoping for a different result this time.

“You can’t change the arranged marriage law, Miss French.”

“So humor me in my pursuit of knowledge. Hypothetically, how does a law get changed on Storybrooke Island?”

“Hypothetically?” he repeated, the wry twist to his mouth showing that he knew full well her interest was more than theoretical. One long finger traced the rim of his teacup, and Belle found herself watching the motion before she answered.

“Let’s call it academic curiosity. I enjoy research, remember?”

He snorted his derision at her transparent excuse, and took a sip of tea before answering.

“The long answer is that there’s process that involves first getting an appointment with the council, of which Queen Regina is the head. Then you present your arguments and any research or witnesses you have to back up your point of view. The council will retire to a private room to deliberate for as long as they feel necessary, whether that’s hours or weeks. When they’ve made their decision, a proclamation will go out, announcing any changes or lack thereof.”

“So what’s the short answer?”

He huffed out a laugh, that had zero humor in it. “The short answer is, you have to convince the Queen. Our by-laws might say that a majority vote on the council is required to change laws, but the truth is, no one else’s opinion matters. A law gets changed when the Queen wills it so. Period.”

“So why the long judicial process?”

“Queen Regina loves to present the illusion that she’s not the dictator she really is, that her subjects actually have a say in their lives. But she is a dictator, and you won’t change the marriage law without first changing her mind.”

“And that’s not going to be easy, judging by your tone.”

“Oh no. You’d do better sneaking off the island in the dead of night, and taking your chances elsewhere. Not everywhere has this insane law, you know.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “But… the penalty for leaving the island without permission…”

“Is death. Which is why so few people attempt it.”

“I want to change this law, but I don’t know if I’d ever risk that.”

“Most people feel as you do, which is why so few try to sneak off the island. But it’s been known to happen, Miss French.”

“Have you ever attempted it?”

He hesitated. “Not for myself, no. My home is here. But I’ve been known to help others… for a price.”

“To live free somewhere else… to decide who I’ll marry, what career to have…”

“And what career would you choose, Miss French?”

“Librarian,” she said promptly. “I was training for it when I got my notice. And I’d love to complete my studies and become a librarian like I planned, but the law says I can only further my education or have a job if my husband permits me,” she finished bitterly.

“Well, you needn’t worry on that account, Miss French. I’m happy for you to have whatever career you choose, or to further your education.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“No need for thanks. I’m not giving you anything that you shouldn’t have already possessed. I’m your husband, not your owner. Of course, if you have your way, we won’t be married much longer, and you’ll be able to decide for yourself.”

“Thank you… and, no offense, but I’m rather hoping we can divorce as soon as possible.” She bit her lip nervously, but voiced her question. “So… will you help me?”

“No. Miss French, while I am indeed impressed by your intelligence and nerve, my answer is unchanged.”

“But why?”

“I already told you… to challenge the government would put us both in danger. That answer still stands.”

“That’s not all you said,” Belle asserted, replaying his words from earlier in her head. “You said it would endanger us, _and_ the people we love. Someone you love was hurt by the government, weren’t they? That’s why you won’t go against them?” 

“My answer is no. I see no point in continuing this discussion further.” He set his cup down with a clatter, and made to get up.

“Was it the boy who lived in the room at the end of the hall?” He went still again. “Was he your son?”

Silence hung between them, heavier than it had been at the wedding dinner or during the ride to his home. She’d crossed a line, it was obvious, but she couldn’t take the words back now.

“You went in his room?”

“You said I could look around,” she reminded him. “That I could choose another room if I wanted.”

“I also said that room wasn’t available,” he said. “You’ve chosen your room now, and there shouldn’t be any further reason for you to explore the other rooms. I’m asking you to stay out of the last bedroom on the right.”

His eyes were full of pain, and Belle nodded, chastised. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Miss French, your plan to change the marriage law is admirable, but also misguided. You are meddling in affairs far more complicated than you know. Events that happened before you were born, set us on the path to where we are today, and the system will hardly change because one aspiring librarian wills it so. I realize that being married to me is not how you would choose to spend your life, but you said yourself that it hasn’t been horrible so far. I suggest you resign yourself to your fate. Give up this doomed notion of yours, before you get us killed.”

“Are you forbidding me from researching this topic?” she asked, and held her breath. He could do it, she knew. The government said he had that right. Her gut said that he wasn’t that sort of man, but she needed to know for sure.

He hesitated for a long moment before shaking his head. “No, Miss French. I am… _asking_ you to heed my hard-earned advice, which comes from years of experience with the government. Going against them will lead to nothing good, and could very well bring tragedy upon us, and those we care about.”

His words were delivered with great gravity, and she didn’t doubt that he believed what he said. Thinking of her father, and her guilt should anything happen to him because of her, she lowered her eyes to the now-cold cup of tea and nodded.

He started to leave again, but her voice stopped him. “Mr. Gold? May I still have the use of your library?”

“I said you could, Miss French. I keep my word. Just try not to bring our civilization crumbling down around us, hmm?”

“I’ll do my best.”

He left, and she sat with her cold tea for a while, absorbing the events of the evening. She finally stirred herself and cleaned up from their dinner, which didn’t take long. She turned off the kitchen lights, noting that Mr. Gold’s office door was closed again as she walked down the hall to the library to turn off the lights she’d left on in there. It was late enough in the evening that she could simply go to her room and read a while before sleeping.

 _Her_ room, her mind repeated, quietly thrilling that she had a room to call hers, that she wasn’t required to sleep with Mr. Gold. Although… now that she was getting to know him a little, she thought that sleeping alongside him, even having sex with him if she must, wouldn’t be the terrifying ordeal she’d imagined before her wedding day. Mr. Gold wasn’t the hulking, overly-muscled oaf that Gaston was… in her waking nightmares, it had always been Gaston that forced himself upon her on their wedding night. Mr. Gold had a quiet control that indicated patience; he was intelligent and fair, and had demonstrated over and over again that he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do, regardless of the implicit permission he’d been given by the government. Sex with him might not be so bad… if she had to do it. However, that didn’t change her view that no one should have the power to force her to share her body with anyone else.

And she was painfully aware that she might have gotten lucky, in being assigned a husband like Mr. Gold, but she had friends who hadn’t been so fortunate. Some had already been wed, and Belle had seen them change after their month of isolation, seen them avert their eyes and claim everything was fine in their marriage, while all along their pinched faces and tense shoulders told a different story.

She entered the library, and saw the legal reference she’d left on the table, along with the dictionary she’d utilized to help her understand it. She should put them away, and go to her room to read one of the fiction books she’d chosen earlier. Instead, she glanced toward the door, half-expecting Mr. Gold to appear and issue his dire warnings again, before she picked up both books and marched resolutely down the hall, up the stairs, and to her room, where she closed the door and opened the legal reference to the page about marriage law.

She’d heard her husband’s warnings, and planned to be careful… but she could read up on the law, couldn’t she? No harm ever came from reading a book.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome visitor.

Over the next few days, Belle’s days developed a pattern, and she started feeling more comfortable in the pink house on the edge of town. She’d learned its location only after asking Mr. Gold to point it out on a map. She still didn’t know much about her husband or the home she now shared with him, but she was learning.

Her wedding uniforms and much of her personal wardrobe from her father’s house arrived on the second morning, delivered by the same tall man who’d driven them from the marriage ceremony. Belle was expecting the uniforms, but not her own clothes, and was ecstatic. She carefully hung everything in her closet, and from that day forward, she wore her own clothes, because why not? By law, a newlywed couple wasn’t supposed to see anyone else for the first month of their marriage, and Mr. Gold obviously didn’t mind, since he’d arranged to have her personal wardrobe brought to her. She was tempted to stuff the uniforms under the bed, but in the end, hung them up next to her own clothes. She would need at least one of them, when they went to their post-honeymoon interview at the end of the month, but she refused to wear them within the confines of this house.

She started setting an alarm for herself in the mornings, after sleeping later and later each day and realizing that it would be all too easy to stay up reading all night and then sleep all day. At this end of this month, she hoped to go back to the real world, and her life as a student and almost-librarian. It wouldn’t do to get too far off schedule.

She would eat breakfast by herself in the kitchen, as Mr. Gold was always in his office with the door closed before she came downstairs. Then she would tidy up and spend most of the morning in the library. Sometimes she would select a book and take it out into the garden, if the weather was nice. Her chosen reading material varied between the fictional adventures and romances that she loved so much, and the dryer, less entertaining legal texts. She was still hoping to find something that would help in her quest to be rid of the arranged marriage law, but it was slow going.

Around lunchtime each day, she would knock on Mr. Gold’s office door and ask him to join her for lunch. He always said no, citing calls to be made, contracts to be read, or some other important business. Then she would negotiate for his company during dinner, and he would agree to that request. By the third or fourth day, she began to suspect that he simply liked being asked. She got the impression that he was unaccustomed to being sought after for his company. It wasn’t surprising, given his reputation that she’d known her entire life, but it still made her sad to think of him so isolated.

Whoever had shunned him for his entire life, they’d been fools. Once she convinced him to join her in the kitchen each evening, and gave him a gentle nudge to start a conversation, he always proved to be an excellent dinner companion. He was intelligent and articulate, with astute observations about the world around them.

She found out on the third day that he’d personally selected every book in his library, and had read most of them. Furthermore, he had an excellent memory; she had yet to mention a book, or character from a book, that he hadn’t read or didn’t remember. His observations on character motivations were more cynical than her own, but always supported by the text. He would sometimes quote passages by memory, while making his point, and she loved listening to his voice as he brought the beautiful words to life.

Belle was more cautious about broaching Storybrooke history or politics, now that he’d made his views on defying the government clear. So she confined their conversational topics to books, and the occasional question about an antique in his home.

On her fifth night there, she asked about a puzzle box she’d found in the den while perusing the shelves, and they moved their conversation in there while he demonstrated how to open the box and told the story of how he came to own it. Somehow, without any effort on Belle’s part, they ended up spending the rest of their evening in the den, discussing the various knick-knacks till she couldn’t hold back her yawns any longer, and had to excuse herself to bed. She went upstairs with a smile; it was the longest stretch of time they’d spent socializing together since they’d been married, and she was enjoying his company, very much.

The next evening, she made a point of bringing her current book downstairs and placing it in the den before they started dinner, and afterward mentioned casually that she planned to read there till bedtime, and would he like to join her? They spent the rest of the evening reading in companionable silence, and for every evening afterward, that became their new routine.

Belle became so relaxed in her new home, and comfortable with Mr. Gold, that it was startling to her to awake on a Saturday morning and realize it had been exactly two weeks since their wedding ceremony. They were halfway through their mandatory month of isolation, and it hadn’t been the horrible experience she’d feared. In fact, she’d been downright happy in her new circumstances.

She hadn’t done any legal research for a couple days; it was tempting to abandon it entirely. Strange as it was to admit, she was content in her married life. Mr. Gold had made no demands upon her, provided her with a gorgeous library, and made it clear that he was happy for her to pursue her own interests after the honeymoon. While it would gall her to admit that the government might have actually chosen a good match for her, she would happily continue like this, and perhaps they could. From what she’d heard, the government’s scrutiny of a new couple lessened after the post-honeymoon interviews. If they could make it through that, they would hopefully be left alone to live their lives.

She stretched in bed with a private smile to herself, before getting up to make it carefully. She was wondering what to have for breakfast when the doorbell rang downstairs, and she spun toward the hallway, startled. That doorbell had rung exactly once since the morning the doctor visited, and that had been Mr. Gold’s servant delivering her clothes. They weren’t supposed to have visitors during their honeymoon, so who could it be?

She tip-toed to the door and listened carefully, hearing Mr. Gold greet whoever was there, and a female voice responding. Belle couldn’t make out the words, but… did she recognize that voice? There was something familiar about it. She peeked over the top banister and saw a slim figure, her back to the stairs, and now that she was closer, she definitely recognized the voice. Fae Cobalt, who had overseen one of her orientation sessions on her wedding day. The woman’s quiet voice didn’t carry well, but Mr. Gold’s did when he answered her.

“I left Belle in our bed this morning, and came downstairs to my office, but I believe I heard her come downstairs a few minutes ago; she can usually be found in the library at this time of day. Let’s go check, shall we?”

As Ms. Cobalt turned away, Mr. Gold looked up at Belle and nodded. She nodded back, understanding. Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, she went into her room and grabbed her wedding uniforms from the closet, before closing the bedroom door behind her and entering Mr. Gold’s room across the hall and closing that door behind her as well.

She’d never set foot in his room before, and her heart was in her throat as she looked around frantically, locating the closet. She opened it and shoved his suits aside to hang her uniforms next to them, before dropping her robe to the floor and flinging back the covers of the immaculate bed, lying down.

She realized immediately that this must be the side that Mr. Gold slept on; the scent of his hair and body products, which she’d only caught a whiff of as they conversed over antiques or books, surrounded her here. And there was something else, a pleasant masculine aroma that couldn’t possibly come from a bottle. _That_ smell was all him. Belle slid down fully into the bed, taking a deep breath in through her nose, savoring it. Her husband smelled good, and she wondered suddenly what it would be like to get close enough to smell him directly… maybe under his jawline, or at the crook of his neck…. or maybe even undo a button or two, and smell his chest…

She heard Mr. Gold’s voice again, still downstairs. “…must still be in bed asleep…”

They were coming upstairs. Belle pulled the covers up to her chin, then changed her mind and pushed them down. A married woman wouldn’t bother with covering herself, would she? If she believed her husband was the only other person in the house? For good measure, she slipped her sleep shirt over her head, shimmied out of her panties and flung them both to the floor. Then she turned over her side, facing away from the door and with pillow comfortably under her head, and slid the blankets down to her waist, exposing her bare back.

She was nearly panting, after the rush to get in position. Hyperventilating wouldn’t convince Fae Cobalt that she’d been peacefully asleep. Belle focused, trying to slow her breathing and relax her muscles.

“She must be in here. I thought for sure she’d be awake by now.” Mr. Gold’s voice, much closer now.

“Well, the first few weeks of marital duties can be quite exhausting for a new bride. I completely understand if she needs a bit of extra sleep, and I do hate to disturb her. However, I’m required to check on all new couples. You understand.”

“Of course.” The bedroom door opened with a quiet creak. “Belle? Are you awake? Someone’s here to see you.”

She kept her eyes closed and turned over on her stomach, burrowing into the pillow with what she hoped was a sleepy-sounding hum, and letting them get a good view of her hair which she had yet to brush. Perhaps the obvious bedhead would help convince their witness.

She was glad of her decision to keep her back to the door. She wasn’t a good enough actress to pull this off while facing them.

“Belle? Time to wake up.”

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jerked awake and flipped over onto her back, perhaps a little too convincingly. She’d forgotten that the blanket wasn’t covering her top half at all, and felt the air on her bare breasts at the same moment she watched Mr. Gold’s eyes widen and drop down, from her face to her chest. A movement behind him reminded her that they were being watched, and she directed her attention to the woman there before snatching the comforter up to cover herself.

“Who’s that?” she gasped.

“I’m Fae Cobalt, with the Marriage Commission. This is just a standard visit, to check that everything’s going well.” She stood primly, with her hands clasped in front of her, the picture of composure. She looked not at all perturbed to have woken a naked woman from a sound sleep. In fact, she was smiling. She was enjoying this, the nosy bitch.

Belle forced that thought down, and returned the smile.

“Of course. I remember you now, Mrs. Cobalt. I wasn’t expecting you in our bedroom when I awoke, that’s all.” She looked up at Mr. Gold, to find his eyes dark and hand clenched over the handle of his cane, his entire body stiff. “Husband, could you hand me my robe?” She gestured to where she’d thrown it on the floor. “And if you’ll hand me one of my uniforms from the closet, I’ll get dressed so I can greet our guest properly.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“If you could give me a moment, Mrs. Cobalt,” Belle said, playing the part of a hostess caught off guard but still determined to see to her guest. “I’ll come downstairs and make tea for all of us, and we can talk in a more appropriate environment.”

The government agent watched Mr. Gold pull one of Belle’s uniforms from the closet, and said, “Actually, I think I have all the information I need. Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon.”

Mr. Gold handed Belle her uniform and gestured to the bedroom door. “I’ll walk you downstairs, Mrs. Cobalt.”

Again, he waited till the woman’s back was turned before giving Belle a nod, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked down, to where a bit of cleavage showed above the blanket she still clutched to herself. He turned away abruptly and followed Mrs. Cobalt out, closing the door behind them.

Belle flopped back on the bed, taking deep breaths while waiting for her heartbeat to slow. The thought of that meddlesome woman coming back in, perhaps in hopes of catching her off guard, made her get up and put the dress on. Leaving the rest of her clothes where they were until she was sure the woman left, Belle went downstairs.

Mr. Gold stood at the window, looking out onto the yard. A black car was pulling away down the long driveway.

“Is she gone?” Belle asked.

“Yes. Well done, Miss French.” He turned to look at her, and was it her imagination, or was he focusing extra hard on her face? “That was quite a performance.”

“Yes, well… I found the terror of being caught _not_ sharing a bed, to be quite motivating.”

“Miss French… you can relax now. She’s gone, and thanks to your quick thinking, she has no proof that we are defying the government in any way.”

“She’s gone for now,” Belle said bitterly. “What about the next time?”

“We’ll deal with the next time when it comes,” he said, with a calmness that only infuriated her.

“We shouldn’t have to live like this,” she snapped, waving in the direction Mrs. Cobalt had gone. “Always afraid of the knock at the door. _This_ is why the marriage law needs to go… so no one has to be this scared. Not us, and not the generations that will follow. Wouldn’t you have wanted that for your son?”

At her last words, his face changed, became somehow harder, and she knew she’d made a mistake.

“Don’t talk to me about my son, Miss French. You know nothing about that part of my life.”

“I could,” she said, but softly now. She knew she should stop talking, but couldn’t seem to help herself. Who was this man, behind the reputation and the stiff mask he wore? “I could know, if you would tell me.”

“You have a habit of pushing boundaries, Miss French. I dare say it will land you in trouble one day. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.”

He walked away, making no noise on the plush carpets, and his office door clicked closed behind him.

Belle leaned back against the wall, exhausted even though she’d been awake less than an hour. She should apologize to Mr. Gold for trying to pry into his personal life, but she wouldn’t apologize for her conviction that the arranged marriage law was inhumane and needed to end. 

She hadn’t found anything yet, that could help end the oppressive regime they lived under. But she would. She just needed to find the right book. She pushed off the wall, marching toward the library with renewed resolve, then changed course to go upstairs.

She would be spending the morning in the library, researching, and she would find the answer she sought, no matter how long it took.

But first… she was getting out of this damned uniform.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The post-honeymoon interviews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been forever since I updated this, and I’m so so sorry. I said that this story was almost done when I started posting, and that there wouldn’t be any long waits between chapters, but turns out I’m a lying liar who lies. Not intentionally, I swear! I just ran into a plot snag that I needed to work out, and next thing I knew, it was four months later. Still don’t know where the time went. 
> 
> Anyway, I’m updating now! Thanks for @rainstanding on Tumblr for idea-bouncing, beta reading, and general cheerleading services.

Belle lay stiff beneath her blankets, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

Tomorrow, they would have their interviews with the Marriage Commission. They’d discussed what to say and not to say, and Mr. Gold had shared his experience from his interview after his honeymoon with Milah, so Belle was better informed than many new brides facing the same inquiry.

Still, she couldn’t help the ball of fear growing ever bigger in her stomach. What if something did go wrong? What if the Commission held it against them that they hadn’t spent their honeymoon in one of the newly married houses? What if the government somehow knew about her research into the history of the marriage law, and ways to possibly change it?

It was silly, Belle knew that. How could the government possibly know? But logic didn’t do anything to allay her fears.

Not staying in the required housing wasn’t the only rule they’d broken. They were also supposed to be having sex, starting on their wedding night. The medical exam that Mr. Gold had circumvented for her was supposed to prove sexual intercourse, and Belle wondered what would happen at the Marriage Commission tomorrow if the doctor’s falsified report were not believed. They needed the Commission to believe that they’d had sex, just like any other newly married couple. They hadn’t, not once. They’d barely touched, in fact. No kisses, no hugs, no intimacy of any kind.

Well… no physical intimacy. Intellectually, they’d become quite close over the past month. She would love for that closeness to extend to the emotional, but he seemed determined to maintain barriers between them. As long as their interactions avoided emotional connotations, and she refrained from asking about his personal life, they got along fabulously.

Belle had never known a man like Mr. Gold, with his sharp wit and restless intelligence, always ready to engage in debate with her. Sure, she’d had professors who could perhaps match him in intellect, but they’d always been women or older men, with their white hair and stooped posture showing that some of their wisdom came from living the years of a long life.

Mr. Gold was older than her, it was true, but he wasn’t the wizened old man she associated with a man of his intellect. She’d never spent so much time discussing literature, philosophy, history, politics, and any number of other topics with an attractive man. And she did find him attractive, a fact that she’d been increasingly unable to deny to herself.

She didn’t _want_ to be attracted to him, she admitted in the dark now. She didn’t want to give the government the satisfaction of being happy with the man with whom she’d been matched. She deserved to choose her own husband, damn it all! Or choose to not get married at all! It was her life, her choice. Where did the government get off, thinking they could assign her to a man and she’d be attracted to him, and care for him and even want to have sex with him?

Her quandary now was, she could now say yes to all those things. Mr. Gold was right across the hall, and she’d become increasingly aware of his presence as they became more comfortable with each other. She could walk across that hall, and into his room, and they could consummate their marriage.

It would annoy her that after all this time, she would be doing exactly what the government wanted. But if it was what she wanted as well, and her only reason for not doing it was to spite the government, then she was only hurting herself, wasn’t she?

Could she go through with it? That was the other question that needed to be answered. If she walked into his room and offered herself to Mr. Gold, then she needed to be sure. Belle closed her eyes, pointless though it may have been in the darkness, and focused on her body. What would it feel like to let someone else… a man… _Mr. Gold_ touch her all over? She’d tried touching herself before, on her breasts and between her legs. Tried to figure out what all the fuss over sex was about, but her own hands never brought her much pleasure, and the mystery went unsolved. Could she solve it now, in that room across the hall? Would being touched by Mr. Gold be different, be better?

Well, one thing was for sure. She wouldn’t get answers to her questions by lying here staring into the darkness. It was time to act, and do the brave thing.

Belle threw back the blankets and let herself slip to the floor, the plush carpet soft under her feet. She made no noise as she crossed the room and opened her door, then crossed the hall. She hesitated outside his room. If she opened the door and went in, it would be too late to pretend it never happened, that she’d never had this insane idea to seduce her husband in-name-only, in an attempt to make him her husband for real.

She reached for the doorknob, then her hand dropped again as a new doubt sprang fully formed into her thoughts. What if _he_ didn’t want _her_?

She realized that she’d never asked him if he was attracted to her at all. He’d definitely enjoyed the view, that day she’d been naked in his bed, but he hadn’t mentioned it since. She’d caught him looking at her sometimes since, in a way that she thought indicated interest, but he’d never acted on it.

He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to become emotionally attached to her, but he was still a man. A young, attractive, and available woman was under his roof. Would he really say no?

If she offered herself and he said no, she’d be humiliated. She’d always been told that she was beautiful, and desirable. She’d always taken men’s interest for granted. It would be devastating if the one man she was supposed to appeal to, didn’t want her.

Enough, she told herself. There was only one way to find out.

The door opened soundlessly, and Belle stepped into the darkness within, letting her eyes adjust for a moment before moving toward Mr. Gold’s bed. It occurred to her that she was about to proposition a man for sex, and she didn’t even know his first name.

She could just make out the dark shape of him beneath the covers. He shifted as she approached, turning onto his side with a deep sigh, and murmured something unintelligible. She took the last few steps that brought her within reach of him, and lifted her hand to gently shake his shoulder, when he spoke again.

“Belle…”

She froze. He’d never said her first name before. Not once. Yet apparently, she was _Belle_ in his dreams. Emboldened by this proof of his desire for her, she touched his shoulder and called his name softly.

The effect was instantaneous. He sat straight up, causing her to jump back, and looked around wildly for a moment before reaching for the bedside lamp. The sudden illumination made Belle self-conscious in her skimpy nightie.

“Miss French? What are you doing here? Are you ill?”

“N—no, of course not,” she stuttered. She crossed her arms over her breasts, sure that he could see through the thin silk. It was silly, of course. He’d already seen them.

“Miss French… why did you come into my room?”

“I want to…” She trailed off, realizing that she had no idea how to finish the sentence. Anything she could think of sounded too forward, too brazen. She was also realizing that she didn’t know exactly what she wanted, and for what reason. Did she want to make love with him, because over the past month she’d grown to care for him more than she could have ever predicted? Did she want a matter-of-fact consummation of their marriage, so she could look the Marriage Commission in the eye tomorrow and say that of course they’d had sex? Did she want to satisfy her curiosity, to find out if the kind of intimacy she’d read about, really was as wonderful as the books said?

All of the above, she decided finally, and sat on the edge of his bed, next to his legs. His eyes widened, and he sat up against the headboard, moving a few inches away from her at the same time. Belle’s heart sank. He seemed disinclined to take the lead, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed without guidance from him.

“I want us to be together,” she said finally. There. Direct and simple.

He sighed.

“And I suppose it’s just coincidence that we have our interviews tomorrow. You don’t want this, Miss French. You’re just nervous about the interviews tomorrow, but you don’t have to be. I promise you, it’ll be fine. Now go back to your room.”

“What if the interviews aren’t the only reason?” she asked, gathering her courage to put one hand lightly on his leg through the comforter. He flinched, and she almost took her hand away, but resolutely kept it where it was. “What if I want to be with you?”

He looked at her steadily. “Can you honestly say that fear of the government played no part in your decision to cross that hall and enter my room?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Miss French, I can count on one hand the number of people whose opinion actually matters to me. At some point in the past month, your name was added to that very short list. For reasons that I cannot fathom, you seem to actually enjoy my company--”

“I do,” Belle interjected. “Very much.”

“And I enjoy yours. Part of what I enjoy, Miss French, is that you seem to have a high opinion of me. I would not risk that regard for an ill-advised tryst that would never happen if not for your fear of the interviews. Please, go back to your room before we do something that we’ll both regret tomorrow.”

Belle nodded, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. She stood and walked toward the door, conscious of his eyes watching her, and turned before she reached the door, catching him adjusting his gaze upward, looking guilty. She withheld a smirk. She hadn’t been sure before, but he was definitely checking her out just now. He did find her desirable.

She chose not to mention that, instead saying, “For the record, I’m not so sure that I would regret it tomorrow.” She smiled at his stunned expression, and sailed out of the room, back to her own bed. She left both their doors open. It took a long time to fall asleep.

##  *** * ***

They were separated once they arrived at the municipal building where the interviews took place. Belle was ushered into a room with a dozen other young women, all of them looking nervous. Ruby was already there, and her posture straightened when Belle entered, making quick eye contact before looking down. The guard waved carelessly, indicating that Belle could choose her own seat, and went back to the door to check in the next woman.

Belle sat next to Ruby and offered her hand between their seats, which Ruby immediately took. Glancing toward the door to be certain the guard was still distracted, Belle whispered to her.

“How are you?”

“I’m great. This past month has been amazing,” Ruby answered, in an equally low whisper.

“A good match, then?”

“Yeah. I hate to admit it, but the government knows their stuff. I don’t think I could have chosen a better partner for myself.”

Belle squeezed her hand instead of answering, as the guard looked their way.

“And you?” Ruby asked after a moment.

“Mr. Gold has been good to me. He likes to read. We spend a lot of time discussing books.”

From her peripheral vision, she could see her friend smothering a grin. “Sounds like they chose a good match for you too.”

“Mm-hmm,” Belle hummed in agreement, unable to elaborate.

“And, umm…” Ruby hesitated, and Belle knew what her friend was about to ask. “Your marital duties? Has that part been okay?”

Belle was saved from answering by a disturbance at the door, as the woman checking in with the guard seemed to be arguing with him. After threats of calling additional guards, he pulled her into the room by the arm and deposited her none-too-gently in the seat closest to the door.

Belle gasped as she recognized the newcomer as Gaston’s bride. A healing bruise on her cheek showed on her fair skin, despite her obvious attempt to cover it with makeup. She exchanged a sideways glance with Ruby.

“So glad that wasn’t you,” Ruby whispered, then they sat quietly, trying not to look at the red-haired woman who glowered at the entire room.

“Mr. Gold doesn’t treat me like that, Ruby. You don’t need to worry. I’m fine,” Belle whispered back, and saw her exhale with relief.

The guard started calling them out, one by one. As her name was now legally Belle Gold, and fell approximately a third of the way through the alphabet, she saw a few young women get called out ahead of her. Ruby was called and they squeezed hands one last time before she followed the guard.

When her name was called, Belle stood and smoothed her newlywed uniform, and followed the agent out into the hallway. She was instructed to sit on a bench outside a room marked Interview 5, and told to wait. She would be called in when they were finished with the woman before her, but the agent said that the interviewers were taking a brief recess, so it may be a few minutes longer.

Belle waited, watching the comings and goings in the hallway. This entire hall seemed to be nothing but interview rooms. Nervous men and women were escorted in, and escorted back out again. She even saw Mr. Gold being shown into a room a little way down the hall, and raised her fingers in a sneaky wave when he looked her way. He didn’t wave back, but she caught his meaningful nod.

Ruby came out of an interview room, and winked at Belle as she passed by. There was no opportunity to talk further. Belle only smiled at her friend as she was led away.

A door on the other side of Belle’s bench, marked private, opened. Regina Mills stepped out with a teenager that Belle recognized as Henry, the queen’s adopted son. Everyone knew of their ruler’s son, of course… it had caused quite the stir when the Queen adopted him years ago, as none of her subjects thought she had a single maternal instinct. Belle had helped Henry when he visited the library several months ago, and had been surprised by how well-adjusted and happy he seemed. On some level, she’d always assumed that his life with the Queen had been horrific, but her limited interaction with him suggested otherwise. He’d even mentioned his mother with a smile.

The queen spoke to her son, too softly for Belle to hear what she was saying, but it was the look on her face that caught Belle’s attention. They hugged, and the Queen’s closed eyes as she embraced her son gave Belle a chance to study her more closely. She looked… happy. Belle had never been sure if the queen was capable of happiness, but her son clearly brought out that quality in her. Whatever faults she had as a ruler, Regina Mills loved her son. Belle had no doubt of it.

With a final kiss on the forehead, Regina Mills released him and reentered the door marked private.

Henry started to walk away, and Belle acted without questioning her impulse. She whispered, “Henry!”

Thankfully, he turned. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face relaxed into an easy smile.

“Hey. You… work at the university library, right?”

“Yes. Or, well, I did. Before…” she gestured to her wedding uniform.

“Right.” His face sobered.

Belle gave another furtive look up and down the hall, but all the agents seemed to be preoccupied escorting people to their interviews. No one was paying attention to herself and Henry. She gestured to him to come closer.

“How are you? Did you get a good grade on that research paper? It was on… the history of Storybrooke Island, correct?”

“Yeah, and I got an A, thanks to you searching so hard for those ancient books.”

“Good. Always nice to hear.”

She remembered his visit well, in part because she’d gotten in trouble for attempting to access books in the government archives, which were tightly restricted. In her opinion, there was no reason why information about their island’s history shouldn’t be available to all citizens, but the Head Librarian had nearly ended her internship over the incident.

“Are you still working at the library?” Henry asked.

“Well, not for the past month, obviously,” she said, and he nodded his understanding. “I’m hoping to go back there after my interview today. My husband has said that he would approve it.”

He nodded again, and seemed about to ask another question when an agent walked up.

“Mr. Henry? What are you doing, talking to the interviewee?”

Belle froze, but Henry only smiled at the agent with the assurance of a young man who had grown up around the intimidating government staff.

“Oh, just saying hello. Miss French, I mean…” He hesitated for the first time, glancing at Belle.

“Gold,” she supplied.

“Right. Mrs. Gold, before she was married, worked at the university library and helped me with a history paper once. I got an A because of her. Thanks again for your help,” he said to Belle, and nodded to the guard before walking away.

“Alright, Mrs. Gold. It’s your turn.”

The interview room was bare. Just a table with three chairs, one on her side and two on the other side. Those chairs were occupied by Regina Mills and an older woman who favored her… or rather, Regina favored the older woman, Belle realized. Without asking, she knew that this was Regina’s mother Cora. She’d never heard of the Queen personally conducting a post-honeymoon interview, and her heart sped up at the thought that her marriage to Mr. Gold had singled her out for special treatment.

“Mrs. Gold. Thank you for joining us.”

Regina smiled at her in the way that Belle found so unnerving, the practiced smile of a politician who knows that her subjects hate her, and enjoys it. The smile of a stealth hunter just before it emerged from its hiding spot and pounced on their prey.

The agent pulled out her chair, and Belle sat, holding the Queen’s gaze and refusing to flinch.

“So, today is just a formality,” Cora said as the door closed behind the departing guard. “We have no doubt that you are very content with your marriage to Mr. Gold, but we like to check up on all our subjects and ask if everything is going well, and if we can help you with anything?”

“Very kind of you,” Belle said, with an artificial smile to rival the other women.

“Just doing our duty,” Regina said. “So are you and Mr. Gold getting along?”

“Yes, we are. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how good a match we’ve been.”

“Oh?” Cora prompted, leaning forward.

“Oh, yes. Oh, I was nervous on our matching day, just like everyone. And when I met him, I wasn’t sure… I mean, he’s a bit older than me, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. So I was concerned about going home with him, but the first month has been very nice,” Belle finished, politeness oozing from every syllable.

“How do you spend your days?”

“Familiarizing myself with the house--”

“You are living at Mr. Gold’s private residence, is that correct?”

Regina looked down and flipped a page, as if checking her notes. Belle was sure she knew exactly where they’d been living.

“Yes. He said he’d received special permission for us to do so.”

“That’s correct. We occasionally make exceptions for the prominent members of our community.”

“And your… wedding night?” Cora asked.

Belle hesitated, and looked down into her lap, playing the part of a new bride to whom sex was still a topic she was unaccustomed to discussing. She had talked to Mr. Gold about how to handle the inevitable questions about the intimate aspects of their relationship, fighting her blushes to introduce the topic because she’d rather have the embarrassing conversation with him, than be caught off guard in front of the interviewers.

_“I think your safest course of action will be to act the blushing bride,” he advised her over dinner a few nights before. “Answer their questions as briefly as possible, and don’t offer any additional information. You won’t be the first newlywed to sit across from them, stuttering her way through her responses. If they press for details, just say that it’s personal, and you’re not accustomed to talking about what goes on in the bedroom.”_

Of course, Mr. Gold hadn’t known who would be conducting her interview.

“The first time was awkward,” she said softly, twisting her hands. “I haven’t been married before, as I’m sure you know, so I wasn’t sure what was expected of me. But Mr. Gold showed me what he wanted, and it’s gotten easier, since that first time.”

“Mr. Gold wasn’t too rough with you?” Cora asked.

“I don’t…. think so,” she answered, frowning as if she wasn’t sure. “I was a bit sore when I woke up the next morning, but that faded in a couple days.” She was grateful that whispered gossip passed around from older girls in the school bathrooms, obtained from their older married sisters and cousins, had given her _some_ information.

“Yes, we have the doctor’s report from your morning-after exam.” Regina pulled a paper from the folder in front of her. “It shows the amount of genital trauma expected after a young woman’s wedding night.”

She waited, but Belle offered no further comment, only biting her lip and hoping they would interpret it as nerves.

“Tell me, Mrs. Gold…” Cora leaned back in her chair, affecting nonchalance. “Does Mr. Gold still favor that expensive cologne that is reminiscent of the ocean breeze? I always loved that scent on him.”

Why was Cora pointing out her familiarity with her Mr. Gold’s cologne? At least this was a question she could answer. She vividly remembered the one time she’d lain in Mr. Gold’s bed, and the way his scent had enveloped her there.

“I wouldn’t call it ocean-inspired, no. More like a mix of sandalwood and cedar,” she said slowly.

“Hmm,” was Cora’s only response, but she looked slightly nettled. “And does he still have that sensitive spot? I’m sure you know the one I’m talking about.”

Belle froze for the barest second, before forcing herself to smile. She would not rise to Cora’s bait, and demand to know how this woman seemed so intimate with her husband.

“I’m afraid that I don’t know,” Belle said, looking down into her lap again. “Mr. Gold and I are still getting to know each other’s… preferences.”

“Well, I dare say that when you find it, you’ll know.”

Cora smiled at her, confident that she’d proved her point. Belle held her gaze, unflinching, till Regina cleared her throat.

“If we could move on with the rest of the questions?” 

“Of course,” Cora said smoothly.

Regina checked something off on her paper, and moved her pen down the page. 

“Tell me, Mrs. Gold…. do you think you might be pregnant?”

“N-no,” Belle stuttered, feeling herself flush. “I mean, isn’t a bit early for that? Even if I were, it’s too early to tell, right?”

“Oh, I knew right away when I got pregnant with Regina,” Cora said with assurance. “The morning sickness was awful. Even then you were as inconvenient as possible,” she muttered to her daughter.

Belle wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear that part.

Regina didn’t answer her, but Belle saw the way the Queen flinched at the barb.

“Mrs. Gold, have you discussed future plans with your husband?” Regina continued as if her mother hadn’t said anything. “I can see in your file that you previously applied to delay your marriage, so you could complete an advanced degree. Is that still something you want to do?”

“Very much.”

“And is Mr. Gold open to that?” Cora asked.

“Yes. He says he’s happy for me to complete my studies, and get a job outside the home. And I’m very grateful,” she added, remembering that she was supposed to be playing the docile wife. “I know that many caregivers aren’t given such autonomy from their providers.”

“You understand, of course, that once you become pregnant, you will be expected to leave your job and take care of your child.”

“Of course,” she responded, knowing what answer was expected.

“Well, if there’s nothing else for us to discuss, I think we’ve covered all the standard questions,” Regina said, closing her folder and sitting back.

Belle slumped in her chair, but sat back up again, trying not to be obvious in her relief that the interview was over.

“There is just…. one more thing,” Cora said.

“Mother…” Regina said in a warning tone, but Cora ignored her. She leaned forward across the table, making sure she had Belle’s full attention.

“In the past, Mr. Gold has shown some anti-government leanings. I’m sure you understand, Mrs. Gold, that our society requires that we all be united in upholding the laws and traditions of our island. We can’t have any rebels stirring trouble.”

“Of course not,” Belle said faintly, wondering if she was really talking about Mr. Gold. Was this the moment they informed her that they knew about her research? Would the government agents in their black uniforms burst into the room and arrest her?

“You are in a unique position to monitor his activities. Should you see evidence of treasonous behavior, you’ll let us know, won’t you?”

“I will,” she said, her heart racing as she promised to spy on her husband. There was no other answer she could give, here in this room with the Queen and her equally intimidating mother, even if Belle had no intention of carrying through on the promise.

“Thank you. I knew we could count on a sensible young woman like you to see things our way.”

Cora sat back, and Regina said, “ _Now_ are we done?”

“Quite done,” Cora said with a satisfied smirk.

“Mrs. Gold, thank you for your time. You may go. An agent will escort you to your husband.”

“Thank you,” she remembered to say, standing up on legs that didn’t feel entirely steady.

As promised, the agent was waiting for her when she opened the door, and he silently led the way through the halls till they came to a small holding room. Mr. Gold was the only one there, standing amidst the empty chairs, his back to the door as he leaned on his cane. He turned when they entered and only gave a perfunctory nod to the agent, offering his arm to Belle.

Something was wrong. His body language was stiff, and he’d barely looked at her. Belle waited till the agent had walked away before asking softly, “What’s wrong?”

“Not here,” he said, and started for the door.

They had to stop before they could pass through the doorway, as a large figure entering the room blocked their path.

“Gaston?” Belle gasped. Her former schoolmate -- and the man who’d sworn he would marry her -- had angry red gashes marking the left side of his face. She barely had time to take in his injuries and his shock at seeing her, before her husband was pulling her away.

Belle hurried along beside him, wondering what was going on. Mr. Gold had never physically pulled her along with him as he was doing now. He’d never physically forced her in anyway, to do anything. Did he somehow know about her answer to Cora, that she would spy on him? Belle wouldn’t put it past Cora to have told him herself, in order to play them against each other. That seemed like the kind of thing she would do. They needed to clear up that matter, and quickly, but she agreed that they couldn’t have the conversation within the walls of a government building.

Outside, their car was waiting for them. Mr. Gold opened the door for her, as he always did, and waited for her to get in before sliding onto the seat beside her and slamming the door.

“Home,” he said to the driver, and raised the tinted privacy glass, separating them from the front. Belle spoke quickly; it wouldn’t do to let Mr. Gold keep thinking that she was conspiring against him.

“Mr. Gold, I don’t know what you were told, but I didn’t--”

“They’re going after my son,” he growled, his lips barely moving as he said it.

Had she heard him correctly?

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

“My son, Miss French.” He turned to look at her, finally, and his dark eyes were haunted. “They’re going after Bae.” 


End file.
